Go Saddle The Sea
by Mariel Gullwhacker
Summary: This is based on Joan Aiken's Felix trilogy. Robin is an orphaned squirrel. One night, he and his best friend Astar run away from their orphanage, desperate to find some love...unfortunately, the place they want to be lies far across the sea - it's Redwal


A/N: I started this, according to my computer, on 6th April 2001, and I finished it on 26th December of the same year. Not slow, steady working, but in bits, sometimes separated by several months. This is one of my better pieces, the first of a trilogy based on the Felix trilogy by Joan Aiken, one of my favourite authors. The titles are the same as the titles of the books, and part of the plot of this story belongs to her. The Comprachicos may belong to her, I've only ever read about them in the Felix trilogy. I seem to have copied some paragraphs (adapting them to Redwall) accidentally, reading it through, but these are some excellent bits, and they don't seem to be integral parts of the book. Sorry.

Disclaimer: Astar, Robin, Ophelia and co., Alice, Colin, Father Tomas, Loren, Paula, Brother Augustus, and Perrin belong to me (and probably some other people too, but they're probably not very important). The rest belongs to either Brian Jacques or Joan Aiken.

There's not much else to say. Please R/R!

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Go Saddle The Sea

_"Go saddle the sea and __put a bridle on the wind, before you __choose your place." Joan Aiken, Go Saddle The Sea._

I remember happy times, you know. Occasionally, when I've received more than the fair share of lashes – and I quite honestly _didn't drop the dead fish down Brother Augustus's robes (but I applaud who did, I detest that tiresome old stoat)– I've run to my tiny room, flung myself down on my hard bed, and about to cry my eyes out when I recall dimly a small cottage with an open, inviting, brown door. And I can almost hear a bell tolling, but never so clearly as to instil any feeling for it. But __don't say I have no feelings. Perrin says that._

I can't stand Perrin. I can see his twisted clown-face curl into a sadistic smile at the stripes of scarlet on my back. I have regular beatings; at least three lashes a day, more if I've committed the smallest offence.

It's too weak to say I can't stand him. I _hate him. When I first came here, I pitied him for his ugly features, I even rather liked him for it. Now I hate him more than anything. _

In a perverse way, nothing is greater than love that comes out of hate. Or rivalry, if you like it better. There's the squirrelmaid, Astar, the only other squirrel in this hellhole of pain, misery, and…hate.

I hated her when she first came. I thought she would become a toady, being the only female. It was much fairer when we were all male.

But Astar was treated worse, at first. She bore it better than anyone – except me, I suppose. I've _never cried out. Sometimes – sometimes I don't think I've __ever cried at all._

But, by Dark Forest, I want to!

Now Astar and I rival each other for the number of lashes a day, how long we can go without screaming (she's never cried for seasons either, we're both hardened to it) and even how long it takes our wounds to heal.

It _is silly, I think, and she knows it too. But I never want it to stop as long as I stay here. It gives a reason to live – maybe we should make a wager on who's going to live longest under such treatment! But it wouldn't be fair; I've been here far longer than Astar. _

Too long. I think I'm going to snap… 

Loren is a thin, scrawny rat, in more ways than one. He came into my room that night. Oh, that fateful night…

"You."

"Oh, golly gosh, it's me."

"Listen!" snapped Loren. "Paula's dying. Can't see why, personally, but she wants _you."_

"And you think she'd want you?" I retorted, dashing past the rat, my mind bent on reaching the plump, jolly (the only hospitable creature in this whole wretched place) cook. She was my adopted mother, and I adored her.

"Paula," I gasped as I skidded to her bedside. "Loren said you're dying."

"Aye, young Robin, 'tis so."

"Oh…_no!"_

"A creature 'as to die sometime, lad, an' I've 'ad my innin's. Don't worry about the old 'edgepig, Robin. She'll pop off, nice an' easy, and her youngest young'un won't shed tears for 'er when 'e won't shed 'em for 'is beatin's."

"What do you mean? You're the only mother I've ever known, of course I'll cry."

But Paula shook her head. "You'll cry for what you truly love, young'un, and not the best foster mother in the 'ole wide world can take Talia's place."

"Talia – my mother? You knew my mother? But – you never told me."

"O'course I didn't. She never wanted you to be told about it 'til you were old enough not to run away as soon as you 'eard. I've no choice now, Robin…and I think you're old enough not to go as y'are, wid no planning and whatnot. _Go saddle the sea…"_

I knew the old saying. _Go saddle the sea and put a bridle on the wind, before you choose your place._

"Who _were my parents, Paula?" I asked plaintively. "Where were they from, what were their names – and why did my mother think I'd run away?"_

The breath rattled in Paula's throat as she tried to reply. I could barely make the words out.

"Stefan and Talia…Mossflower…green habits…"

With a shock I realised that Paula, darling, motherly Paula, was in the grip of death fever. I turned desperately to the doctor, who shook his head sadly.

"There's nothing I can do, Master Robin."

I knew he was right, old Doctor Caris would never lie. He was a good mouse. Like most of his kind, he was an excellent healer, and could never see someone in pain without doing something for him or her.

What I mean by death fever is a sudden deliriousness, minutes before death, that sometimes comes when the victim is trying to remember something. 

Green habits? What on _earth did she mean by that? I leaned forward again._

"Terrible Talia…running away with Stefan…marrying him at red walls…green habits…so happy…then Stefan vanishing…Talia dying…broken heart…so sorry, Robin…"

Her voice trailed off, her eyes closed, and relief flooded over her features.

"Robin…letters…mother…drawer…"

Paula's eyes were still closed, and suddenly, so quickly, peace swept over her brow, and I knew she had gone.

I clasped my hands together and touched her forehead with them. It was the sign to say that the dead one had passed over.

No sooner had I done this than Father Tomas grabbed me by the shoulders and proceeded to shake me until the teeth rattled in my head.

"You were confined to your room!" he roared. "What did you come _here for?"_

"Paula was my best friend," I grated out before I could stop myself. "She was the only humane creature in this whole, godforsaken place!"

Father Tomas tensed, and then swung his fist and hit me.

_So much for a ferret._

*

I woke in agony. Astar was on infirmary duty, and as I groaned, she hastened over.

"Stupid idiot," she said affectionately. "You shouldn't have cheeked Father Tomas like that."

"He cheeked _me," I told her. "Loren said Paula was dying, so I went to see if he was telling the truth, and he was. For once."_

"Anyway, I've got those letters."

"You have?" I asked eagerly.

"Yes. I know about them because when I was clearing out her room, to be ready for the next 'occupant' I found some old letters written to you. I've only scanned them, honest."

"I wouldn't mind if you _had read them," I said quietly. "I mean – you couldn't care less what they said."_

"Oh, I would." Astar grinned. "If they'd given the slightest hint of criticism to my good friend – you – I would have ripped them up."

"But how d'you know they _don't?"_

"Logic, my dear Robin. You've been here since you were tiny. Mothers can never see any wrong in their young ones until they're at least a season old."

"It doesn't matter, anyway. Can I – thank you."

Astar drew out a bundle of parchments, tied round with blue ribbon. She handed them to me and I smiled gratefully.

"Oh, look. Ganelon is in pain. I'd better see to him."

As she hurried off in the direction of the weasel, I noticed he was sleeping peacefully. I grinned at Astar's retreating back. She knew when she wasn't wanted.

*

(Letters from Talia to Stefan, Stefan to Talia, and Talia to Robin)

Stefan – 

Father forbids his youngest daughter to marry. Oh dear! Who will take care of him? Well, I'm sure Aunt Nell will boss him about, unlike me. Father's scared of Aunt Nell, I'm sure he is.

But that's not the point. Christina was allowed, even Atossa was allowed – and isn't she the finest housekeeper a creature could wish for?

He's a stern, forbidding old squirrel. Thankfully, none of us take after him in that respect. But I know I can beat him down with Aunt Nell's help. _I know I can._

Yours truly, your ever-loving 

Talia.

Talia – 

I almost pity your father. Two female squirrels going on at him – he'll give way in ten seconds. Hopefully.

I don't know why he forbade it in the first place. He's not selfish, usually; he's very easy-going. But if he still won't let us marry, we'll have to run away.

Love,

Stefan.

(Many more letters, other roses of yesterday, but too many to include here.)__

Robin – 

You're only a baby now, but when you finally do read this, I want you to remember that

_Roses of yesterday are sweet_

_But nothing is better than the present._

You'll want to know what it means. It means that, although looking into the past, discovering lovers who were parted, who were together, and who took the law into their own hands, the present is where you live, and it is _so much better than the past._

But enough of that. I have more to say.

Stefan and I loved each other more than anything. He was an orphan; I was the youngest of three, all girls. Christina was the eldest, and Atossa was the second.

Christina and Atossa married other squirrels, and were perfectly happy, by all accounts. However, as I was the only one left, Father depended more and more on me. I have never been a wonderful housekeeper, and as my duties became heavier, so did my determination to be free.

Eventually Stefan proposed to me, and I begged Father to let me marry him. Aunt Nell would look after the housekeeping, I said.

But he refused, and finally I ran away with Stefan. I believe Father never spoke of me again, but perhaps that's just a story.

We were married at Redwall Abbey, and we settled down in Mossflower, a few miles away from Christina. Then I had you, and everything was beautiful. We were completely happy.

Then one night, Stefan disappeared. He wasn't a warrior, though he could fight magnificently when he wanted to. But he was too gentle, too shy to be a warrior. But this broke my heart. I couldn't live without him, I thought. Even you, darling Robin, couldn't bring back the will for life. My sister Atossa will take care of you, but if she cannot, go to Christina. She will help no matter what.

Above all, Robin, fight for what is right and true, obey your instincts, and _never tell a lie._

Talia.

*

I folded the last letter with a sigh. I stared thoughtfully at a small book that had fallen out of Astar's robes. I wondered whether I should read it, or whether it was too private even to just glance at the first few lines for a name.

I finally decided upon the latter. If it was Astar's, I could simply give it back to her and apologise, if it was somebody else's I could give it to _them and apologise._

I opened it and scanned the first few lines.

_When you're beaten and oppressed…never mind_

_When you're dying from six of the best…never mind _

_When you can't go your own way_

_Enjoy the new day_

_Never mind._

I recognised the song. It really went:

_When you're tired and alone…never mind._

_When you've sinned and you can't atone…never mind._

And so on. But Astar – I recognised her writing – had always hated it, and compared to our environment, I didn't blame her. It was incredibly annoying.

That evening, as Astar plonked the tray down on my knees, I handed her the diary in exchange.

"I only read the first few lines," I said. "Good parody."

"Thank you." She raised her eyebrows. "I should poison your food."

"Idiot. I'm going to run away."

"Can I come?"

"Oh, no," I said sarcastically. "I mentioned it to you so that you could run and tell Father Tomas."

She smirked. "I might just do that."

"Not when you've got a choice between coming with me – that also includes going on your own – telling Torquemada, or keeping it shut. What's it to be?"

She gazed steadily at me. "It's the most difficult choice I've ever had to face."

"Why?" Because she didn't seem to be joking.

"It's not just what you say. It's a choice between my adopted uncle, slimeball though he is, and freedom."

I stared.

*

It was midnight. I paced the vegetable garden restlessly. Surely Astar would come? She admitted her adopted uncle was a slimeball, but declared she couldn't leave him. I wondered who, out of the staff that governed us, was the uncle.

Finally she came.

"Astar!"

"Yes."

"You decided to come?"

"No, I told Tomas. Of course I'm coming, you nitwit."

"Come on, then."

We sped down the steep hill towards the village of Logh. I was worried, the orphanage had it's own language, Malwenese, and I was not sure whether it was a general language, or the orphanage's special speak.

"_Torfray?" I asked a passing vole._

"_Jao?"_

("Excuse me?" "Yes?")

"_Mi jene om filg. Ove wian parrecto."_

("My sister is ill. She needs shelter.)

"_Dio yil hefton ay pento phree?"_

("What do you expect me to do about it?)

I took a deep breath, trying to control my anger.

"_Yil orren arrutis ove fou ste?"_

("You know anywhere she could stay?")

"_Dialle Plase."_

("Dial Place.")

"_Dirrekshons?"_

(There followed a long list of directions, by which time Astar was leaning heavily on my shoulder, half-asleep, and in no fit condition to confirm my doubts as to whether we'd find the place before dawn.)

"_Millao," I said, nonplussed, as he finished. "Thank you."_

I dragged Astar into an alley and shook her violently. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"What?"

"By the brush! You didn't think I was going to let you spend the night in a nice inn when in the morning there'd be a hue and cry for us up and down the area? You must be plain stupid if you did!"

"I thought _you were, to be honest," she returned sleepily. "Anyway, why did you ask him for directions if you weren't going to follow them?"_

"It was a red herring, you idiot! I thought even you would have been able to work _that out."_

Astar yawned again. "Well, come on then. Let's go."

*

We escaped from Logh with ease. As we travelled, I refreshed my memory of the main language used all over the world. Malwenese was native only to Logh and it was said that no other creatures, apart from the Loghen, used a different language. I was thankful that I had learnt this kind of speak, for otherwise we would have been doomed to failure. Astar knew very little, however; but since we had a warm scarf, I wrapped it round her throat and told her she was dumb.

"But," she complained, "when I _do learn, I can still speak, can't I? That wouldn't be fair."_

"All right, you're recovering from an illness that made you lose your voice and can only speak very faintly."

"OK."

There was an air of finality in her voice that closed the conversation for a while. I was thinking deeply about our destination, and so, it seemed, was Astar, for after some time she said:

"Where, exactly, are we going?"

I considered this for a second, then replied: "_I'm going to Redwall Abbey. I don't know about you."_

"Do you actually know where it is?"

"Nope."

"Helpful, then, isn't it?" she snapped. I grinned.

"For you, no."

"Nor for you, it would seem," she retorted. Then she began to laugh, and I laughed too.

"But seriously, do you have _any idea?"_

"It's in Mossflower," I said.

"Oh, yes, a great help. Salamandastron's in Mossflower, you twerp!"

"Oh." I was disconcerted. Mossflower lay over the sea anyway – you could go by land, but not if you had any common sense in your head – or if your errand was particularly urgent. Sea was the best way, straight across the sea. And as Astar said, Mossflower was the most disgustingly big area. Salamandastron, I knew, was by the shore, and Mossflower Woods was far, far inland, except for the River Moss. From where we had come from, it was far enough from anywhere, and I wasn't too good with a compass.

*

"Robin."

We were lying in a small cave, watching the flickering flames of the fire. Well, Astar was. I was just outside, leaning against a rock. Anyhow, as I turned to look at her, I saw she was crying, and hastily averted my eyes. She would never forgive me if I saw her cry, I was sure.

I murmured an affirmative to show I was listening.

"Have you ever seen a ghost while you were at the orphanage?"

I started, wondering how she could have known. A memory dredged up by the shock at her question, rose up in front of my eyes, and I shivered. Should I tell her about it? I wondered.

"Yes," I answered finally. "I have."

"What was it?"

I decided in a flash that I would tell her. It had been terrifying, really, all the way through, although those five creatures had done as much as they could to allay my fears. 

"It was at dusk," I began. "I was in my cell, at the top of the house. Level with where the battlements would have been."

For the orphanage stood where once an evil fortress had been. It had been razed to the ground seasons ago, but it was said that the ghosts of those associated with it still walked the corridors of the building.

"I was staring out of the window. As I did so, I noticed a slight commotion down below.

"A, tall, brawny squirrel was helping some poor, underfed, thin creatures to escape. I think they must have been slaves. As a vole ran past them, shouting something, the big squirrel turned and slew him.

"Then they vanished. Next I saw a small mouse and an otter leading other slaves out of a hole. They disappeared, too, as soon as I tried to get a good look at them.

"The third vision was the big squirrel taunting a stoat. Eventually the stoat came out of the fortress and faced the squirrel. The squirrel had him down on the ground and began to beat him to death. Like the stoat must have had slaves beaten, I suppose. But that was the squirrel's huge mistake.

"A massive horde of vermin spilled from everywhere. The squirrel went down fighting, but he had no chance. I could never have done that."

I hadn't finished, but Astar interrupted me. She smiled slightly. "I think you could have done if you were desperate, Robin. But no, not as you are now."

I scowled. "Let me finish my story! Then I want to know why you asked."

She nodded. "Sorry."

"The fourth time it was a ferocious battle. All the time I'd been watching the others I'd been absolutely terrified. Terrified for these poor creatures, what they had to do to survive. But now I was just anxious. Anxious about the devastation being caused by the vermin. I wanted these goodbeasts to win.

"I saw new creatures in the battle. I don't mean any old hedgehog or ferret that was there, these had a special light around them. Like the squirrel and mouse I told you about.

"The first of them was a mole. He was swiping at the vermin with his ladle; it made me laugh at first. I felt terrible afterwards, though, when he was badly injured.

"The second was another mouse, about the same height as the squirrel, but thinner. He had a short sword, and by the way he wielded it I knew he was more accustomed to a longer one. This mouse had a strange expression on his face – of vengeance, determination, pain and hate. There was no fear. He was fighting for his life, and – there was no fear.

"The third and last was a mousemaid, very like the first mouse, the younger one, but older. There was determination in her face, and though not much – there was fear in her eyes. She was hiding it well.

"The last scenes play in my head over and over again. It was horrifying, but fascinating; I couldn't take my eyes from the scene. 

The stoat, running away from the tall mouse. The mole trying to stop him had his head bashed into his own ladle. The mousemaid was whirling her sling and attacked him with it. She was beating him badly when he picked her up and slammed her against the wall. Then the tall mouse was on him, slashing at him with skill and strength. 

"Eventually the stoat was on the ground, babbling something, but this time there was no mistakes made. The mouse slid the stoat's sword out of the scabbard and placed it to the stoat's heart, then drove it in. Then he collapsed next to the mousemaid, murmured something, and became unconscious."

I was nearly crying as I finished. The whole story had become apparent to me as I'd told it, and although I could never cry, I could feel myself sobbing inside.

Astar wept, I could see her. Resolutely I turned to face the rocks, fighting the temptation to try and comfort her.

She stopped after a while. Red-eyed, she glanced at me, saw my stony face, and looked away.

"You were going to tell me why you asked."

"Yes." Astar stared at the ground. "I was, wasn't I?"

And she began her story.

"I asked, Robin, because we are friends and I need to tell someone about _my encounter with the supernatural._

"When I was young, but not so young as not to remember it, I was playing out in the garden of my home."

She said this in such a way as to assure me she meant her real home, not the orphanage.

"I saw a mousemaid playing with her brother. It was so vivid – so cheerful and happy. They were having the time of their lives.

"Then I saw a squirrelmaid. She was crying at first, then when she saw the vermin surrounding her, she ran for her life over the sand dunes. Incidentally, there are no sand dunes near Noonvale."

Astar suddenly clapped a paw to her mouth. "Oh! But forget about Noonvale, _please!"_

I shrugged. "All right."

"The third and last was back in the garden. The mousemaid – a few seasons older, I think, was lying in a coffin. Dead. About to be buried. Everyone was crying. Her brother was the only dry-eyed creature in the area, I think.

"The last made me feel like a knife had been plunged into my heart and twisted round. That's why I cried. I thought I knew whom you were talking about. But it doesn't have to be…"

The feeble protest was nothing to my reasoning. "If you saw a ghost mousemaid, and I saw a ghost mousemaid, it could well be the same one. Surely there can't be _that many?" I shrugged my shoulders again. "Come on. Let's not worry about phantoms. If they want to haunt, they can, but they're not going to spoil __my sleep. The only thing that does that is a beating."_

Astar pulled her cloak over her head. She shivered, although it wasn't a particularly cold night.

"I don't like it here any more. Let's find somewhere else to sleep."

I shrugged a third time to signify I didn't care. I hadn't found the day's travelling too harsh; I could well keep going without sleep for another few hours.

As we plodded on, Astar was silent, for once. I could barely hear her moving; occasionally I reached out to make sure she was still there.

"What's wrong?"

"My uncle."

"Oh, yes. The mysterious uncle."

"_Don't!" she cried. "I owe him everything, and I've just run away!"_

I sighed. "You'd better tell me about it."

As we seated ourselves on the ground, a line from a poem wandered across my mind – 'I thought it lay across the floor/Many would agree, but some say more.' I had no idea why it did. It wasn't even significant.

Astar rubbed her nose thoughtfully.

"It started, I think, when my parents died. I was only a few seasons old, but I remember the brigands who did it. I'd still recognise them now, but I don't think I'll ever have the chance to avenge them.

"Anyway, we were travelling at that time. In the Silino Mountains. You know of them?"

"I didn't spend eight hours a week on geography for nothing," I said dryly.

"Sorry, I forgot. Anyhow, the brigands killed my parents and would have killed me too, but one of them said: 'Let her live. She's only a baby, it's terrible to cut off a life before it's been lived.'

"The others agreed, and he picked me up and surveyed me. 'I'll take her away – over the water. To where that old fortress used to stand. There's an orphanage there now.'

"Then one of the others said: 'But how do we know she won't escape?' And he replied: 'I'll take a job there and make sure she doesn't.'

"They argued for some time, then the leader signified that he didn't care what happened to me, so long as I wouldn't betray them, or take revenge or be the cause of their downfall, basically.

"So the stoat took me to the orphanage and became one of the staff. I've never forgotten that."

"You're _grateful to him? But – you said he was a slimeball," I stuttered._

"Yes. He is. I mean I've never forgotten that he was the one who slew my parents."

"So why do you feel bad?"

"Because he saved my life." She smiled gently. "That always creates a bond between the two – the victim and the rescuer."

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "But you're still coming with me, aren't you?"

I was seized with a sudden fear. Even though I liked to be alone, the thought of enduring a sea journey in that state horrified me. It was all very well over land, you might meet nobody for miles. But on a ship you would be thrown together with other creatures, probably who all knew each other already, and you knew none of them!

"Of course I'm staying," she said. "I don't like being beaten!"

That night we found a farm – or I did – and the farmer said we could sleep in the barn. 

Astar had learnt a lot of the real language; I'd been forcing her to speak in it whenever possible, so she managed to bargain fairly easily with him as to what it cost us. Eventually he laughed and said we could stay if we wanted for free.

I traded a copper coin for a loaf of bread, and wondered if it would be polite to ask for water, for we'd finished our supply at lunchtime, and there didn't seem to be any streams near.

"Bless ye, dear, o'course ye can 'ave yer drink," said the good-natured otterwife, reading my thoughts. "Ye can't live without water – well us otters know it! Yer bound along the coast – good thinkin' they'd soon trace yer if ye'd taken ship from closest port."

I jumped, startled. "How – how did you know?" I stammered out.

Alice shrugged. " 'Tis plain by the pale face, young squirrel. Only those who come from yon orphanage have pale faces. As I said, anyway, 'tis clever thinkin' not to take ship from the shore – close outside Marshank, I mean. They'd trace yer easy. But forgit what I said abou' Marshank! 'Tis an evil place, always has been, always will be. Don't worry yer heads about it."

"Aye," said her husband, breaking in. "But 'twasn't a bad place before Marshank. But the wicked are buried there. They've tainted the land, and no good ever comes to those who build on it."

"_Colin!" exclaimed Alice crossly. "Don't frighten the poor children!"_

"Are you descended from somebody there?" asked Astar curiously.

"Aye, missie, 'e survived the battle but found Noonvale too quiet and secret to live there. Keyla, 'is name was," replied Colin with an almost devastating slowness.

"Oh…I used to live in Noonvale."

"Did ye now? 'Tis a beautiful place, so I've heard. Green grass and blue sky – lovely. And water, too."

"Yes. But then my parents were killed by brigands in the mountains."

"You poor dear." Alice leaned forward and gave Astar a hug. "But I can see you're a fighter. Martin bless you."

"Martin?"

"A warrior mouse from the northlands. One of the most famous warriors of all time, along with his father, Luke, and the badgers of Salamandastron, of course. Come, have a bite to eat. I've got some soup on the boil; there's enough for four. I had a feeling we'd have visitors."

The broth was the best I'd ever tasted. It was a pity we couldn't stay here for a week or so. But we didn't even have…time…to…sleep…

*

I let myself go with the slight rocking motion. I was perfectly happy. I was in my crib, of course, the one that my father had carved specially for me, it had the most delicate swirls and twists, any baby would be proud of it. My mother was bending over me, how beautiful she was!

My eyelids fluttered open properly – they had been half-shut before – and realised I wasn't in my crib, I wasn't in the orphanage, I wasn't in the barn that Alice and Colin had offered us to sleep in, I wasn't even under the stars as was our usual custom.

I was in a ship.

Astar was gazing anxiously at me.

"I was worried that they'd slipped the proper stuff into yours, instead of the mickey finn. I'm all right, though."

"It would help if I knew what was going on," I grumbled. "Ouch!"

My head was hammering, and as I gingerly touched the back of my head again, I felt a large lump.

"What _is going on?" I asked._

Astar nodded towards the wall. "Listen."

I pressed my ear to the thin wooden planks and listened. I shivered violently as I realised what Astar meant.

"You can't ship two young'uns like that! They may 'ave people a-waitin' for 'em."

"Nah – I heard them talkin' in the next room. They're runnin' away to Redwall Abbey. Those that know don' keer, an' those that keer don' know."

"Perfect! We will never have another chance like this one, Captain," came a third, well-bred voice. "I have an idea already for the male…"

At this point I pulled away. I couldn't bear to listen any more.

"You see what they are?" hissed Astar.

There was a pause. I could hear the wind blowing outside, rustling the sails.

"Yes," I said, with great difficulty, but I churned it out at last. "They are kidnappers and slavers – brutes!"

But Astar was shaking her head. "No," she whispered. "No."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I listened to them for a long, long time before you woke. They are not kidnappers or slavers, but much, much worse."

I glanced up. "But…"

"They are not murderers, either, I suppose, but…"

Her voice was so quiet that I could barely hear it above the noise going on around us. But I caught the last word clearly, so clearly I wished I had not.

_Comprachicos._

"Comprachicos?"

"Yes."

I stared at her in disbelief. I could not believe her. Then I _did believe her, Astar would not make such a tale up, and in spite of myself, I began to shiver._

Comprachicos are always vermin. The vermin will never trust a mouse or a hare, or any of that type. They hate and fear them when they come for their young ones, so usually they prey on other, unwanted, vermin babies.

It was said that all Comprachicos, no matter how high- or lowborn they were, were the spawn of Hellgates. I had never thought that was true, now I believed it whole-heartedly. What a terrible thing, to buy children and turn them into monsters!

Oh, the Comprachicos never did anything that was wrong, in a sense, they never stole their victims – or if so, only ones that had no one who cared to fight for them. I knew of their horrifying trade, but I had had no personal experience of it – until now.

There was a special mixture of herbs that, once eaten, would send the victim into a deep sleep, and they would wake up knowing nothing of what had gone on before. In other words, their memories would be wiped clean; they would not even be able to remember their own names. Then the Comprachicos would set to work, twisting straight bodies into crippled ones, performing surgery so complete that the victim's own mother wouldn't recognise them. I had heard of Zenna Palick, a young, attractive pine marten, who had been sold to these inhuman dissectors by her parents. They said she had undergone this treatment and come out as ugly as sin, her parents had gone to a circus with her in, and had not recognised their child until a sadistic ferret had informed them that the star attraction had been their unwanted daughter.

I remembered Perrin. Rumour had it that once he, too, had been a charming baby when his parents had sold him. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view) he had escaped before they had made more than a few disfigurements. Apparently he had had a natural resistance to the drug, but I didn't place too much truth on that part of the tale.

I shivered again. The male they spoke about had been me, I was sure…

"Don't eat anything unless you've seen somebody else taste it first – and that doesn't include me," advised Astar.

"I just don't understand how it happened." I shook my head. "It seems only a moment ago we were talking about Marshank and vegetable soup."

Astar tried to explain. "While we were talking to Alice and Colin, someone must have been hiding in the next room. When they heard that we had no close friends, they must have slipped a mickey finn in the broth."

"What's a mickey finn?" I asked, wrapping my brush round my paws to keep them warm.

"A sleeping potion. I was worried at first that it might have been the real thing, then I remembered that there was no chance they could have got us without Alice or Colin."

"How d'you know they _didn't?"_

"Because we're all right, so far. I mean, we might be in danger, but we _are still alive, and where there's life there's hope, right?"_

"Right."

"Anyway, once the mickey finn was in the pot, they could sit back and wait for us to drop off. To be honest, I think we'd have fallen asleep anyway.

"Then, when we _were snoring our heads off like pigs, they picked us up and carried us on board. You might have struggled a bit without being properly awake, I think, and one of them bashed your head against a wall, hence the pigeon's egg disfiguring your handsome face._

"That's all, I think, until _I woke up – your knock-out blow put you to sleep for a lot longer. I did what you just did, and found out they were Comprachicos. I think I fainted."_

"Don't worry about it," I said, putting an arm round her. "Remember, you're my sister. I've got to protect you, I'm your older brother."

She smiled and rested her head on my shoulder. "Do you think they'll believe that? We don't look much alike."

"There's enough resemblance," I assured her. "We have the same colour fur, and everything. Besides, one squirrel is very like another, or so said one of the vermin just now."

She nodded slightly, I noticed her body relaxing and slumping against me and I knew she was asleep.

I myself couldn't drop off as easily. Maybe I had slept enough in those hours when I was unconscious, perhaps I was simply too worried to do so. Whatever the reason, I stayed awake for a long time, wondering about what the Comprachicos were going to do to us.

When I did finally doze off, I kept waking, sweat pouring down my face, from the terrible nightmares that haunted my sleep. Whether I ended up with an owl's head or was simply so crippled I could not walk without support, the prospect terrified me and I would remind myself not to even taste anything the crew didn't eat from the same pot.

Eventually Astar stirred and opened her eyes.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I must have given you cramp."

I shrugged. "I didn't sleep much anyway."

She stretched and I got up and walked over to the door. Immediately I was thrown back as it burst open, revealing the captain and a few others.

"So," he snarled unpleasantly. "You've woken up at last."

The others reiterated his words as they grabbed us.

"Woken up to plague us, 'ave yer?"

"Ah, well. Won' plague us much longer, will they?"

"Where's the dokker gone? Ain't 'e able ter stomach the drugs? Well, s'long as 'e can do the op'rations. Udderwise I'd 'ave to do 'em, wouldn' I? An' wouldn' there be 'orrible results?"

Peering into Astar's frightened face, he leered horribly. A moment later he howled as she kicked him in the knee.

"Ooh, you'll pay fer that, missie. Cap'n, can we make 'er the laughin' stock o'the circus? An' not wipe 'er memory?"

"Give it a rest!" snapped the captain. "I'm 'avin' enough trouble wid this one!"

It was true; I'd hit him several times. Punching, kicking and scratching, we made our way to the centre of the room.

"Right! We make the conditions!" I cried angrily.

"Yes! We're not going to be made into circus exhibits!"

"Play fair, and we'll pay you for our passage over the sea."

"No, we won't!" exploded Astar. "We were kidnapped! We'll be put on to Mossflower's shores exactly as we are now, in mind, soul, spirit and body, please."

"Even beatings wouldn't make us cry," I told them. "We've had too many."

There was a long silence. The ship creaked loudly, but no one paid any attention to it.

"All righ'," said the captain at last. "We'll let yer go on one condition."

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone about us."

I shrugged. Not exactly inclining to either negative or affirmative, Astar followed my example. Translate it how you want, was the message, but it didn't seem to penetrate the vermin heads. They simply signalled for us to follow them out.

"You can sleep in the galley," said one roughly. We nodded and accompanied him there.

It was probably the warmest place in the whole ship. A plump fox smiled benignly at us.

"Ay'lo, nice for some company?"

"Yes," I replied with a rather frozen grin.

"Ay'lo, yer know 'em."

"Ye-es." What on earth was he talking about? By the brush, they'd given us a mad babysitter.

"Ay'lo, der Comprachicos. An'ja know, I cou' slippa druggy inna here, an' yer never know."

"Really?" I tried not to show how terrified I was. "That would be nasty. And you don't want to be nasty to the sorcerors, do you?" I glared at him. "You wouldn't want to harm my sister and I, especially as we're very _powerful sorcerors."_

"Aaaah."

"I could put a curse on you now. Do you want me to?" I began to chant in Malwenese, praying he would not understand.

"_Mortis ala frusi macalenti!_

_Penelicotis, forem ilitis!_

_Kelene, olinis, mortis!_

_Mortis!_

_MORTIS!"_

As I finished, I flung a paw at the fox. Astar was a fearsome sight as she copied my actions and pretended to be shouting too. I couldn't have looked much better with my fur standing on end, my brush at a ninety-degree angle.

"I – I…"

Then the fox dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

"What did you say that was so bad?" asked Astar. "After all, it didn't scare me, and I knew what it meant."

"I think it's because we looked like demons from Hellgates – and really, if you believed in that sort of thing, you would have been frightened. Let me think – it's hard to translate."

I thought for a moment, then grinned.

"Die, you fox, death awaits you!

Repent! Speak truth!

Regret past sins! Die!  
Die!

DIE!"

Even Astar shivered. "But that's not a very good translation, is it?"

"Nope. It was a _lot worse."_

*

We were half-mad with fear and terror by the time the climax came. Astar sometimes stared at me in such a way that I wondered, deep down that is, I couldn't think of it in cold blood, if she truly was insane. It frightened me badly, and occasionally I thought that I, too, was deranged. I knew that if we managed to survive without going crazy, we'd never make it to the shore alive and well. We were far too valuable, since we'd shown that we knew they were Comprachicos. We were dead squirrels walking. 

"Here," said the captain, rudely shoving beakers at us. "Drink this. It'll warm you up."

Astar pressed it to her lips, but I struck it away.

"You idiot!" I whispered urgently. "No one's tasted it!"

No one was near us. I nodded towards the pot. "Don't take any broth tonight, either."

"That's last night's stuff. They heat it up and dip their bowls in if they want some."

"So much the better." I poured the contents of my beaker into the container. "Give me yours."

As I sat down and pretended to be asleep, the steersrat came in and heated up the soup we had just 'improved'.

I felt Astar tense beside me. What would happen? He was strong, healthy and full-grown. Would the drug merely send him insane? Or would it overpower him?

The rat dipped his bowl in several times, until there were only a few drops of broth left. He picked up the pot and drained it to the last, there was nothing wasted.

I could have jumped for joy, but I felt a sense of guilt. If it sent him insane, how many _other deaths would I be responsible for? If it worked as it was supposed to, would I ever be able to forgive myself for inflicting such torture on a fellow creature? Or if it turned out to be something that would have been good for Astar, would I be able to forgive myself for not giving her it?_

I reminded myself that if it were the real drug, they would have done it to Astar and I. If it was the last, well, we were perfectly fine at the moment. We might stay that way with a bit of luck.

There was a terrible commotion on deck. I scrambled up to see what was going on.

The steersrat had the mate in his paws and was spinning around, screaming curses and threats to the howling wind of the storm that was raging, as if in answer to his madness.

"Beware, the enemies of Hellgates! Never dream of Dark Forest, follow your instincts to Hell! You see what comes of it?"

Having shrieked this to the skies, he flung the unfortunate mate overboard, where I am sure he could not last long in the wild waters of the sea. One of the crew tried to soothe him, the rat charged at him and knocked the poor creature over the side, but the impetus was too strong and sent him to join his crewmates.

"Those darn squirrels!" snarled the captain. He turned on the doctor, who had just emerged from his cabin. "You gave them the wrong potion!"

"No. I gave them the right one, it simply did not work in the same way on these young ones."

"A fat lot of good!" sneered the captain. "Anyway, you can help with the sails."

"No. I am a fox of science, not a fox of sea."

"You won't be a fox of _anything if this ship goes down!" snapped the captain. Turning to another rat, he ordered: "Get those squirrels. They can work instead."_

I dropped down and informed Astar of what had happened.

"Pretend to be asleep," I said. "It's our best bet."

The captain came down the ladder and kicked me. "Get up," he said rudely. "Now. You're working on deck, and I can guarantee you won't be harmed."

I was about to say 'and how much are _your guarantees worth?' but didn't._

*

It was a long night. I pulled and tugged at the ropes while Astar steered the ship skilfully around a rocky area. It was nearly midnight when the captain ordered me to climb the riggings and on to the yard pole to attach the sails properly.

It would have been dangerous at the best of times, but in the middle of a howling, raging storm it was almost impossible. I didn't protest, though. I prayed that in Dark Forest someone would have pity and give me a helping hand, though I felt that they would somehow look away and pretend it hadn't happened.

The face of the squirrel rose in front of me. It gave me courage, I knew I could fight the storm and Mother Nature for his sake. He could have done it – and so could I.

It wasn't easy. The gale nearly blew me off the rigging before I'd even got halfway. Determinedly I fought my way up, loop by loop.

When I finally did reach the top, I crawled along the yard with not a little trepidation, my paws fumbling at the knots – and then all my problems were solved for me…

As I reached the last knot, I heard a loud crack, and anxiously glanced behind me to see if the pole was breaking underneath my weight. It wasn't, but as I looked down, I saw that the ship was breaking apart.

"_Astar!" I cried in horror. She looked up and nodded. The Badger Lords know how she heard me._

And then, with a great groan, the ship splintered into a thousand pieces of wreckage, and I fell, luckily, some distance away from the flotsam and jetsam, but as I had been very high up, I managed to twist my body into a clean dive, instead of the massive belly flop, which almost certainly would have killed me.

I surfaced and thanked all the spirits in Dark Forest, and especially the big squirrel who had died at Marshank for letting me survive.

"_Astar!" I yelled again, struggling to keep my head over the pitching waves._

"I'm here!" she called, but I could barely hear her, much less work out where her voice was coming from. I was tossed up again, and plummeted down, desperately trying to keep up in the air. I knew it was foolish to do so, wasting my energy, but it's just one of those things you can't help doing, no matter what your brain tells you.

"_Astar!" I shrieked as I began to scramble through the water. There were some rocks up ahead, and where there was land – or stone – there was safety._

Eventually I reached the rock and pulled myself up on to it with the last of my strength. There I lay, brush lapping in the water, sprawled across a rock. Then I noticed a strange thing.

The storm had – well – _gone._

I think I fell asleep, then. I hate to admit it for a moment, but it's true. I'm ashamed because I thought that Astar was drowned, that my best friend in that whole, terrible world, was dead. And yet, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep when such a tragedy was upon me. I'm not at all proud of it. None of the warriors Alice had spoken of would have done such a thing.

But, although I'm ashamed, and I wish I hadn't, I can sometimes hear a voice in my head, saying:

"It wasn't your fault. You'd done all you could."

The voice was soft, softer than the quietest whisper. I trusted it – still do. Dark Forest spirits never let you down.

*

As I drifted awake, I became aware of a squirrelmaid bending over me. I might have been delirious, I'm not sure, however, I _know I wasn't myself in those few moments._

"Mother…" I trailed off into a whisper.

"No, it's Astar, you crazy nitwit."

I laughed, a very weak laugh, but it was a real chuckle, and I knew that she was back to normal, even if I wasn't. During our time with the Comprachicos, she had been meek and terrified, which was horribly unlike her. I think it was because of the length of time we were there, coupled with the fact that we had no escape. But I didn't reflect on that _then; it was some time later, and you will see why._

"Are you OK?"

"I'm…I'm…"

Then I slumped back and Astar could not have had a clearer sign than that.

I was raving about dead fish, brigands, and most of all, Marshank. I could see it all so clearly. Father Tomas holding the cod up, swishing the whip with his other paw. He vanished amongst a brilliant flash of colour, he had been glowing with scarlets and dark pinks already. Then the dusty brown and florescent orange of the bandits, however, they underwent a fearsome transformation into the vermin of Marshank, their victims into the slaves. I could hear them shouting their warcries, fighting for freedom. One relentless, throbbing call thrummed above our heads, mercilessly beating at the vermin's morale.

"_Fur and Freedoooom!"_

Oh, how it scared me! Howling and screaming, the two armies met each other and prepared for death. Blood, blood everywhere. It rose in my eyes. I'd fight for freedom. I didn't want to be a victim of slavery. I didn't care whether I lived or died…I just wanted to be _free._

At last, even I could see the battle was abating. I collapsed on my knees and wept bitterly for all the young, lively and happy creatures that had died here. As I rose, however, tears still running down my face, I saw the purple and silver twilight streak across the sky, and I knew that there was always hope – no matter how much you suffered, or how much the pain, hope was there and in your head and in your heart you were free.

I opened my eyes and gave a soft groan as I stretched. My arms and paws were badly grazed, I winced as I touched them. And my head was hurting again.

A small harvest mouse put a paw underneath me and raised my head.

"Drink this," she said, lifting a beaker to my lips. I did so, and she smiled in a motherly way. "How are you feeling?"

"My head's hurting a bit."

"And so it should. You nearly fractured your skull on those rocks. Luckily, your friend was in better condition and managed to signal to us."

"Astar?"

"Indeed. She's a wild one, she is. Was dancing about on the rocks so hard that she slipped and fell into the water. Fortunately we didn't have far to go, and we picked her up first. Looked like a drowned rat.

"So – where am I?"

"On the good ship _Ophelia." She laughed. "I'm Ophelia. My brother named it after me – we're orphans, you see."_

"So'm I," I said wonderingly. "And so's Astar. It's terrible. Soon there'll be more deaths than births!"

A classic example of logic there, from yours truly.

"Astar's been telling me about your problems. Honestly, Comprachicos are devils!"

"I wouldn't worry," I said. "There's too many creatures on this ship, I'm sure."

Ophelia looked doubtful. "Romulus isn't the sort who takes more than he needs. For this voyage he needs a good _crew, so he gets a good __crew, but not necessarily good __fighters."_

"I see." I didn't, but I had to say something.

Romulus himself came in at that point. He was a tall, handsome young mouse, with a great deal of resemblance to his pretty sister. But there was something in his face – was it character? No, Ophelia certainly had personality. Perhaps it was more of a tale of hardships bravely borne. There was no doubt what Romulus was – he was a warrior!

Having thought this out, I stood up, albeit rather stiffly, and shook paws. He grinned.

"You all right now?"

"Yes – apart from my head which is hurting a bit."

(What do you _say to somebody who saved your life?)_

"That's good. Or bad. I don't know. Anyway, I'm glad your state of health is better than it was when you came here."

His words were ironic, but as his tone was warm and friendly, I forgave him for his clearly intended understatements.

"I'm fine now."

"Apart from the headache," he laughed. "There's plum duff for pudding – with lots of sauce for you, Ophelia. Benjamin was the only one who remembered that you'd asked especially for it."

"Bad cooks!" cried Ophelia with an identical grin, but her colour had deepened a little at the mention of Benjamin (who I later learnt to be the steersmouse, and doubled up as the assistant cook) and I smiled at Romulus, whose grin grew wider.

"Then again, Benjy does seem to remember every word you say."

"Rom, if you _dare…"_

"Ophie, you're my little sister…"

It seemed that those words always infuriated Ophelia, she jerked her head and made a sharp, involuntary movement. I was relieved that she'd controlled her indignation, I didn't want to be witness to a scene of the first degree, as Ophelia seemed capable of causing.

"I'm going for something to eat," she said coldly, and tossed her head.

Romulus squatted down next to me. "So," he said amiably, "where were you heading for when you were oh-so-unfortunately shipwrecked?"

I snorted. "Unfortunately, none of it! We were kidnapped on a Comprachico ship, and that was heading to Mossflower. That's where we were hoping for, actually."

"Well, we can't offer you – oh, which part of Mossflower?"

"Redwall Abbey."

"Ah. Well, we're not going _there…but there's a port fairly near Salamandastron, that's where we're bound."_

"That's great, no problem. We should be able to get a ship to Redwall from a port."

"It's fairly booming," Romulus informed me. "Child's play – you could even hire your own bally ship, as young Oliver would say."

He rose and helped me up with a strong paw. "Your friend Astar will be glad to see you. She's been very worried."

"Worried? About _me? I think __she's ill, not me."_

Romulus laughed. He seemed to be made of mirth and merriment.

"Oh, no. But it's natural to be anxious about a friend who's ill – though usually…"

He paused, and I stared at him. "Though usually what?"

"Though usually not as afraid as she was."

I thought for a second, then said calmly: "She was probably afraid that I'd taken some Comprachico drug by accident, and I'd either stay raving mad all my life, or wake up with no memory."

"Yes, that's probably it," replied Romulus, seemingly satisfied.

I reflected that he, at least, wasn't bothered about the storm. Perhaps the ship had missed it altogether.

As we walked up to the galley, we talked about various things; shipbuilding, seasickness and pirates, mainly, but occasionally we sidetracked – or Romulus did – on to our life histories, but I shied away from that. Beatings and such simply didn't fit with the friendly atmosphere of _Ophelia._

Eventually we reached the galley and sat down to bowls of plum duff with Astar and Ophelia. We ate in silence, but I noticed Astar's eyes never left me, as if daring me to faint. I decided that I would drop dead, just to annoy her, during the evening.

*

Later, most of the crew drifted out on to deck, there not being much else to do, since there was no wind to speak of, and no reason to hurry. It would be an idyll for a few hours, then, if there was still no breeze, everyone except Benjy, who was steering, would vanish down into the hold and row.

But to speak of those few hours, almost everyone was on deck. We – that is, Romulus, me, Ophelia, Astar, Benjy and another mousemaid, (who was usually languishing in the crow's nest) Ellen – stood in a line, leaning over the rail.

"I've often wondered," Benjamin murmured to me, "what Mother Nature looked like. The storybook pictures make her look like a strange-looking old creature with grass and seaweed draped over her. It's not a pretty sight."

"They're probably wrong," I replied thoughtfully. "I mean, she probably doesn't look like anything on earth, I admit, and she'd be very old, too, I suppose, but I think most of her would be beautiful and dignified, with all the colours of rainbows and sunsets and forests and seas."

Benjy laughed suddenly, interrupting me. "It sounded funny," he explained, "to hear forests and rainbows mentioned in the same breath."

I didn't think it was particularly peculiar, but I didn't say anything. Instead I carried on. "But a small part of her will be horrid and nasty, like slave camps and dark, dank fortresses. But Mother Nature is anything she wants to be really, I think. The storm that sank the Comprachico ship. The gentle breeze that's beginning now. _Anything."_

Benjy was silent for a moment, then said: "But you don't think she's all beautiful sunsets and green fields?"

"Definitely not, she's cruel sometimes, you know."

"I know. Oh, I know. I used to be at an orphanage. Finally I ran away because I got beaten once too often. The only nice creature there was a hedgehog, she was the cook. Paula, her name was."

I stared at him. "Was the orphanage by the shore and the ferret in charge called Father Tomas?"

"Yes. When I say I ran away, I had no choice in the matter. They were going to turn me out anyway," he said sadly.

"Astar and I were at that orphanage. There can't be _two Father Tomases!"_

Benjy grinned. "I'll say not. I'm sure he had a personal vendetta against me. He whipped me so hard once that all my clothes were soaked with blood and it didn't stop bleeding for several days, by which time I was in the infirmary with blood loss."

"I took over the role of scapegoat," I said with a grimace. "Astar and I eventually escaped, mainly because when Paula was dying, she gave me some letters from my parents, and partly because Paula was dead and no one else really cared whether we stayed or not."

"Painful," said Benjy sympathetically.

"You bet. I've still got the letters. They were in a waterproof packet round my neck."

"Ophelia put them under your pillow. The string might have strangled you when you were sleeping," he explained unnecessarily.

"Oh, right."

(Did I really understand? Or was I just making automatic replies now? I know I wasn't paying much attention to Benjamin, I was watching Astar debating with Ophelia and Ellen as to whether swords were better than arrows.)

Romulus strode over in his usual powerful way. "A good wind coming in from the south – no time like the present to start going."

I nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

Romulus gave his trademark grin. "I want you to do nothing that isn't necessary. You woke up from the worst fever I've ever seen in my life not three hours ago, and you want to work! You may have a strong constitution, but Ophelia would have my head if I let you do any hard labour."

I assented, feeling faintly dizzy – or was it my imagination? – anyway.

Astar was scrambling up the riggings with the greatest of ease. She grinned annoyingly at me and clambered into the crow's nest with Ellen.

I sat cross-legged on the deck and watched the other creatures scurry past. Most didn't see me, or if they did, were in too much of a hurry to their positions. One or two grinned amiably, and I found myself smiling back.

How could the two ships be so different? The Comprachico ship, where we lived in mortal fear for our existence – and was it significant that I thought of mine and Astar's existences as one? But then, it was probably just that we'd known each other for seasons, and had been a double act as the only two squirrels in the whole flipping establishment, to quote the hares in a spontaneous translation.

But to get back to the subject, I quite definitely preferred this life to that, but…the Comprachico ship had something in that it added a certain excitement. The thing was, that although I'd hate the _Ophelia to sink or anything, I'd like the thrill and stimulation from it. Maybe the ship would be attacked by pirates and we'd have to fight – of course, __Ophelia wouldn't lose anybody, and the ship would be left intact – but it would be good fun while it lasted._

I stood up, stretching. Romulus strolled past and I fell into step with him. He grinned.

"Play look-out if you like, mate."

I took the hint, and joined old Tom at the prow. He smiled affably at me as I leaned over the side. That was just as the last rays of light shot across the sky, and vanished without a single word or sound. Twilight had begun, and the deep purple horizon was lit by thousands, millions of tiny pinpricks of light. I stared, amazed, as one small collection of stars, grouped together in the pattern of a rose – a crimson late rose – began to glow that same colour. How could one fail to be fascinated by the magnificent sight?

My personal favourite was a tall, muscular squirrel with a short javelin. Perhaps it was the same squirrel that had inspired me to climb those terrifying ropes in the storm. I hoped so. There was something about him that inspired trust, and I had submitted to that with little or no resistance. He could frighten me sometimes, with his set jaw and vengeful eyes, but I reminded myself that I had seen Astar with this determined expression, and it hadn't made me afraid of _her – mind you, if I were afraid of Astar, I should be scared of my own shadow!_

But I recalled myself to my duty with some reluctance, I tended to drift off into my own thoughts at peaceful times like this. Nevertheless, rocks had to be looked out for, or bye-bye happy times!

I heard Astar call out. "Land ho! Starboard! Mountain – looks like Salamandastron!"

I sharpened my lookout. Complete concentration was our only salvation if rocks were up ahead.

However, we steered safely into port some leagues north of the great mountain fortress. It was said that if vermin entered there, they never emerged alive. I could well believe it, looking at the black, silent form against the navy-blue sky. Even as I gazed at the beautiful silver moonlight, which shaped an almost uncanny outline against the indigo sky, it was fading, giving way to dawn and a new burst of colours.

"Oh…"

That was all I could say to express the beauty that had so suddenly been dispersed to the brighter dawns. True, dawn and dusk were glorious sights to behold, but the night held a special aura, and neither that, nor it's supreme loveliness, could ever die.

Oh, but I should be describing other events to you! The truth is, those memories take second place to that momentous sight. Nevertheless, I will describe them to you.

Romulus and Tom sold _Ophelia's cargo for some fascinating objects and treasures. I saw Ophelia herself fingering a pendant that I was sure Benjy had given her. I knew that everyone else took second place in her affections after him and Romulus. And why, I thought, should that not be? She and Romulus were orphans and she adored her elder brother who returned her devotion, also, she was in love with Benjamin, and that was completely natural in view of the fact that she was a young, mature mousemaid, and Benjy was a young, mature mouse._

I'm getting sidetracked again, as usual. I felt like an old grandfather, reflecting on the behaviour of young'uns today. And I was one of those young ones, or would be to _my grandpa. But I wasn't in love, thank warriors._

And yet, in a way, it was our friendship – Benjy's and mine – that put several attachments in motion.

For instance, Benjy and Ophelia themselves. Astar, Ellen, Romulus and I put our heads together and came up with a plan. Each of us would talk to either one or the other about certain subjects, to put it delicately. Just marriage and so on, but honestly, asking a male squirrel to talk about love is like asking him to swim round the Great Inland Lake. Actually, he'd probably choose the latter – I would.

Romulus went first, talking to Ophelia. I heard about it later.

"You know, Ophelia, if you want to marry someone, I won't forbid it."

"It never worried me."

"I mean Benjy or somebody like that."

"Oh, right. So if Benjy or someone proposed to me, I could say yes and tell you afterwards?"

"Yes." Romulus gazed meaningfully at her. "I wouldn't mind."

"Hmmm. Well, since no one's proposed, it doesn't matter, does it?"

Romulus shrugged and went away, faintly abashed.

Ellen was the next to persuade Ophelia that Romulus would be only too happy to see her married.

"…And I think you should. Benjy loves you, you know."

Ophelia crimsoned, and flung a cushion at her friend to hide her embarrassment. Ellen dodged it and raced out of the room, giggling madly at the storm she and Romulus had created.

Anyhow, the outcome was that Benjy and Ophelia married in the orchard of Quasalm Hall, where we had been staying. I'm not telling you any more about that, because it embarrassed me, never mind Ophelia, to talk to Benjy, the sort of person I'd talk to about ships and plants, about love and marriage. I cringe even now when I think of it, and besides, I can barely speak about that sort of thing to _Astar._

After that, of course, Ophelia was keen on the idea of Romulus and Ellen marrying, probably stimulated by our matchmaking. I refused to have any part in it, but Astar threw herself into the idea with gusto, and as they used the same techniques as we had, I followed the sort of conversations that they had.

"Rom, why don't _you get married if you were so ready to let Benjy and I do that?"_

Romulus shrugged. "Who would I marry, Ophie?"

"_Don't!"_

"Sorry, _Ophelia."_

"What about Ellen or someone? On the ship, I mean."

"Maybe, Ophelia, I don't _want to marry anyone."_

But the seed was planted in his mind, and when he and his sister talked on the same subject some days later, even though he uttered the same words, it was far less convincing.

"I like Ellen," he said suddenly to me, apropos of nothing. "She's a nice mousemaid. Not like the wildcat who calls herself my sister."

"Ophelia's not _that bad."_

"It feels like it," he said wryly. "We've fought verbally and physically, and neither of us ever won."

I was lying in bed one night soon after when I heard voices coming from the next room.

"Is Astar asleep?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm telling you, we've got to do something. They've done it to us, now we'll do it to them. It's only fair!"

"They made us _happy. I'm not so sure they'll be delighted to be in love. After all, we're at least three seasons older than they are. I know we always forget that because they always seem older than they are – it's because they've been through such a lot. But in many ways, they're younger than they are. I don't think we should do anything drastic."_

"Oh, all right." How I thanked Ellen – it sounded like her, and she was the only one who ever remembered that we might not understand things – for winning Ophelia over. I waited until all was silent again, and then crept into the girls' room. I touched Astar behind her ear, and drew my paw sharply down over her cheek. She woke immediately and quietly.

"They're planning to matchmake _us." I nodded towards the other two beds. "What shall we do?"_

"Find a ship, of course. Let's go to the harbour first thing in the morning."

"Can't it be second thing?" I grumbled in an undertone. "I'm hungry now, and I daresay I'll be hungrier tomorrow morning."

"This morning, you mean."

"_Tomorrow morning. There's still…" I looked out of the window at the pale clock-face, so like the moon. "Still eighteen minutes to go before tomorrow."_

"Today, you mean. It'll be today in twenty minutes."

"I suppose. I'm not getting dragged into this. Time is time, and though everyone tries to kill it, it always ends up killing everyone."

"Go away. It's midnight; I don't want you babbling on while I'm trying to sleep."

"With pleasure, my lady."

"Oh, get lost."

I got lost.

*

Early the next morning, Astar and I were tramping over the cobbles to the harbour when a sly-looking watervole sidled up to us.

" If you need one, I can get you a ship, fast, and aye, cheap too."

"Maybe," I said non-committally. Somehow he made me uneasy, but any ship was better than none. I was continually haunted by the fear that Father Tomas would grab me by the scruff and beat me again.

We quickly walked the last few yards into the harbour-master's office. He was a pleasant hedgehog, amiably offering us the ship-book in which everything was written down; what ships were in port, where they were bound, whether the vessels took passengers, and if so, at what price.

"The _Ophelia's in port, but ain't that the ship you're leavin'?"_

"It is," I agreed.

"What about _Dyin' Light? 'Er sister's better o'course, but __Dyin' Swan wouldn't be too fussed about changing schedule. __Light's a nice ship."_

"Where's it bound for again? I'm sorry, I can't quite read your writing."

(Me all over. Painfully polite when everyone else is free and easy.)

"The Great Inland Lake."

"Oh." I was deflated. "We're bound for Redwall Abbey."

"You mean the River Moss. Sounds like a nice place, but I don't think I've any ships bound there."

"Oh, golly. Just our luck," I muttered. And it _was_. I mean, Comprachicos kidnapping us, just because we happened to be around where they were docked, then being wrecked and in a fever, and finally, this! But he was continuing, and Astar and I exchanged meaningful glances at his words.

"O'course, there's always the _Gannalpiz_, but between you and me, I'd say she was a bit 'avey-cavey. There's a few otters on board there that I'd not trust further than me own nose. That's if they are otters, o'course, and 'onestly, it'd be 'ard to tell, like. They're allus in the shadders, an' besides, they wear 'oods and other such stuff to cover 'emselves up with. I don' 'old with that, young sir, and if I were you, I'd wouldn't either."

Having delivered this last wise dictum – and it was wise, to be sure! – he ruffled through the pages of his precious book to signify that we should go. We trudged out, discouraged and bored.

Romulus was not very encouraging either. He grinned cheerfully as he remarked, "Well, it looks like the _Gannalpiz_ is a godsend."

"Ophelia, your brother needs to get his head checked," Astar told her.

"I know. I keep putting it off, but I think I'll arrange it for tomorrow. I can't waste any more time," returned Ophelia sorrowfully. Then we all laughed.

It was a happy evening we spent, all six of us laughing and joking beside the fire. It was a perfect tableau. A pity it could not last, for the next day Astar and I accepted a passage on the _Gannalpiz_.

*

We set sail on a sunny morning, a good breeze coming in from the east, just what we needed. Looking back on it, I know that we could not have had any idea of what was to come, but I thought for a long time that I should have known from the harbour master's warning. I blamed myself, for it was I who had really accepted the passage, not Astar. But she rebelled against that notion on the basis that she could quite adequately think for herself – something which I know horribly well.

But I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Things must be told in chronological order.

We were quite far out, we'd just lost sight of the port. There were mainly otters on board, but a few mice dashed about here and there. They surprised me, those mice. Their features seemed curiously irregular, not like any mice I'd ever seen. Still, I remembered that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and it might well be that all other mice I'd met up until then had been the odd ones and these were perfectly ordinary mice that you might meet anywhere.

Astar and I dashed about like mad things, securing cords here, climbing ropes there. We worked hard, considering that half the crew were lounging about doing nothing. We were just glad of a passage, and it had been good of the captain to give us berths.

*

I frowned at the darkening sky. We were about halfway to Redwall, and it looked as if there would be another storm. I decided to avoid all ships from then on – it was clearly safer. Storms seemed to follow me like spring follows winter – inevitably and definitely.

Astar and I had grown even closer during this trip. Perhaps it was the feeling of menace around us. Neither of us knew where it came from, just that it was there. I appointed myself as bodyguard to Astar, much to her disgust.

"I don't _need_ anyone to look after me," she complained.

"We're looking out for each other," I told her finally. "The sooner we get into port, the better."

"I agree. But I draw the line at you not letting me speak for myself!"

"If you did, you could be counting yourself lucky that you're not swinging from the crow's nest."

"And you're saying you've got better manners than I have?"

"That's exactly what I have."

She had conceded the point with a sigh.

I thought about this as a distant rumble startled me out of my reverie.

"Oh, no!"

For, foolishly, I had been wondering if we would escape the storm in some miraculous way.

"Storm's headed our way," said Astar, coming quietly up behind me.

"I can see that." I glanced up at the lookout. "Why can't _he_ see that?"

"There's a good news answer and a bad news answer. Which do you prefer?"

"Spill it."

"Well, the good answer is that he's already seen it and reported to the captain. The bad answer is that he's so incompetent that he hasn't noticed it, the crew are too lazy to, and the captain hasn't emerged from his cabin since we got on board. In other words, it's not even fit to be called a ship. Pity, it's a nice little craft."

"Don't even – '' I stared, terrified, at the bolt of lightning that split the sky open. With such a bad crew, we had no chance. Romulus had given me a dagger before we left him and the _Ophelia._ I touched it to reassure myself of it's place on my belt. Somehow, I knew that I was going to need it.

The waves began to get higher, the ship was tossed as easily as a plaything on them. I yelled at one of the otters.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?"

"Nah! Nothing to do, might as well have a nap, captain says."

It might have reassured me, trusting an otter's judgement, except for at that moment a wave splashed over the deck, knocking his hood away from his face. It was clearly a weasel, and I fell to my knees in despair. There was no hope, for then it was clear to me that the whole crew were vermin. I turned and hugged Astar. We stayed like that for a minute, then pulled away. I tried to speak, but found my voice was too choked to say a word. I guessed that this was fear, fear for myself – of death – I thought.

Then there was a resounding _crack!_ And I was thrown up into the air, then submerged what felt like fathoms. Just as my lungs were about to burst, my head broke water, and I trod water desperately. I soon grew tired, however, and drooped. I couldn't hold on any longer…I was too exhausted.

I closed my eyes. Everything was beautiful, I was happy. My mother, my father, Astar…everyone I had ever loved was here in my head. Then I hit something solid, and I passed out.

*

I woke to sounds of fighting. I tried to raise my head, but found it too much of an effort. I saw Astar, kicking a weasel, who was holding a rather nasty-looking cutlass. It was the same idiot that had told us not to worry about the storm.

It was then I noticed that Astar had no real weapon. She was holding out, but she herself was still recovering her strength.

But even she could not hold out forever. She was forced to the ground, and the weasel raised his cutlass for a deathblow…

And I bulled into him from the side, knocking him over. I felt blood mists rise before my eyes. In a Bloodwrath rage, I stamped on his chest and his face, but somehow he managed to rise and throw me down.

He raised his cutlass like he had done with Astar…

And I flung my dagger into his heart.

He collapsed, dead.

*

I stumbled over to Astar, stunned at what had happened. She supported me, and we limped on together, numb and shocked at all that had happened since we left the orphanage.

"Robin?"

"Yes?"

It was a singularly monotonous conversation so far.

"You know I told you about my adopted uncle?"

"Something, yes."

"Well, I think you have the right to know who he was – ''

I already knew. But that wasn't the point. I needed her to tell me.

"It was Perrin."

"I know," I said quietly.

"Then why did you want me to tell you?"

"Because I needed you to trust me enough to do so. Now I know that you do."

"Thank you."

"We're friends, you needn't bother."

"Thanks for that, too."

The sun beat down on the red walls as we approached. I felt dizzy and tired, suddenly I couldn't go any further…

So, coming into the clearing where Redwall was situated, I fainted, and Astar broke down and fell asleep.

*

I woke at sunset. Shaking Astar awake, I knocked timidly at the gates. They opened, and as they greeted us in time-honoured fashion, allowed us to join their meal, I told our story.

"I remember Stefan and Talia," said the elderly Abbess when I finished.

"You do?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes. Your mother was very beautiful. Everyone loved her, she was never out of temper, and always willing to listen. The only way in which she had gone against the wishes of others is when she married your father. They were so much in love, it was charming sight. She was so distraught when he disappeared."

I glanced down. I could see Astar looking at me sympathetically as she often did when my parents were mentioned.

"Of course, your Aunt Christina still lives near here. She would delighted to see you again."

"Where exactly does she live?" I asked.

"About a league due north. It's a little cottage to the left of the path – it's the second house you see on that road. She often sits outside in her front garden, reading."

"Thank you."

"It's a pleasure to help. Redwall Abbey is always open to those of good heart."

"I'm glad you consider Astar and I to be of good heart," I replied, smiling.

"Many in Mossflower are, but there are always some who make trouble," she said sadly. There was a personal sorrow in her eyes, I noted.

"Who did you lose?" I asked quietly.

"My brother, the Abbey Warrior, and a group of fighting beasts went out to fight a tribe of a thousand Juska. It is still painful to recall – my brother never came back."

"I'm sorry." And I was, really. Redwall Abbey seemed so safe, so impregnable, that any misery connected with it was magnified a hundred times.

She shook her head. "It happened many seasons ago. It saddens me very little nowadays, except for when I see another like him. And you, you are like him. Perhaps not now, but I see a warrior in you, young Robin."

As I lay in the silent dormitory late that night, I thought of what she had said. Was it true that I was a warrior? Maybe. But I was going to enjoy myself while I could, though I doubted that I would have a peaceful life.

I was just wondering whether the ghost mouse I had seen (how long ago it seemed!) at the orphanage was the same as the mouse on the tapestry in Great Hall when my brain made a protest at being used so much, and I fell asleep.

A tall otter stood before me with the great sword that had been hanging over the tapestry in his paws. He looked at me and said:

"Mother dead, father killed

Seek out vengeance on jealous sister

Protect your dear love

And learn how to cry."

I remembered only the last line the next morning.

*

I left at midday to go to my Aunt Christina's home. Astar had informed me that she was going to stay at the Abbey, at least until I returned. I appreciated the gesture, and kissed my friend on both cheeks. She looked surprised, but I was no less amazed at myself – and at her for not checking my sentimentality.

"I'm terrible at goodbyes, Astar," I told her. "But I'll see you again soon, anyway, and I need to do this on my own, or I'd beg you on bended knees to accompany me."

She smiled, a very watery smile, but a positive expression nevertheless.

As I walked up the northern path, waving to the Redwallers and Astar, I felt a curious wetness on my cheeks. As I reached up and touched my face, I realised something.

I was crying.__


End file.
